Minnesota - evergreentrad

21 Nov

The Pokegama Bear

One cold frosty morning, the winds, how they blew,
We went to the woods our day’s work for to do,
Yes into the woods we did quickly repair,
It was there that we met the Pokegama Bear.

Now, Morris O’Hern was a bold Irish lad,
He was building a fire all in a pine stub,
The ring of his ax filled the cold winter air,
When out popped the monstrous Pokegama Bear.

With a roar like a lion O’Hern he did swear,
Saying “Run boys, for God’s sake, for I’ve found a bear.”
When out of the brush Jimmy Quinn he did climb,
“To hell with your bear, kill your own porcupine.”

Now, into the swamp old bruin did go,
Bold O’Hern, and Hasty did quickly pursue,
As on through the brush those bold heroes did tear,
To capture or kill the Pokegama Bear.

Old bruin went mad and for Hasty did steer,
He braced for the blow without dread or fear,
With his teeth firmly set and his ax in the air,
He slipped and fell on the Pokegama Bear.

Now out on the tote road old bruin did go,
He thought that was better than wading in snow,
But little he knew what awaited him there,
For fate was against that Pokegama Bear.

There was old Mike McAlpine of fame and renown,
A noted foot racer on Canadian gound,
He ran up the road, raised his ax in the air,
And he dealt the death blow to Pokegama Bear.

When out to the camp poor old bruin was sent,
To skin him and dress him it was our intent,
And we all agreed that each should have a share,
Of the oil that was in the Pokegama Bear.

And next it was sent to the cook and it fried,
It was all very good it cannot be denied,
“It tastes like roast turkey,” Bill Moneghan did swear,
As he feasted upon the Pokegama Bear.

Now my song is ended, I’m dropping my pen,
And Morris O’Hern, he got the bear skin,
Here’s long life to you, boys, and long growth to your hair,
Since it’s greased with the fat from Pokegama Bear!

I am not the first Minnesotan to be fascinated by old songs that drifted into our state during the old time logging era of the 1800s. Iron Ranger John Berquist (once Minnesota’s state folklorist) was very active for much of his life in the revival and performance of regional folk music and performed several logging camp songs including “The Pokegama Bear” (pronounced “po-KEG-uh-muh”). I only had the pleasure of meeting John once before he passed away in 2016 but he was a friend to many in the Twin Cities music community and collaborated many times with Twin Cities mandolin player Bob Douglas.

I am not sure where John found the text of “The Pokegama Bear” but it is printed in Agnes Larson’s wonderful 1949 book The White Pine Industry in Minnesota as contributed by Michael McAlpine of Grand Rapids, Minnesota (who appears in the song). The song was composed by Frank Hasty (who also appears in the song) in a logging camp in 1874. The bear’s namesake, Pokegama Lake, is just south of Grand Rapids. John Berquist set the text to the “Sweet Betsy from Pike” tune so common in the lumbercamp tradition. John performed the song and gave it to Chicago folk singer Art Thieme who recorded it. I use a variant of the same tune with a couple tweaks inspired by “The Journeyman Tailor” – another song with the “Betsy from Pike” tune that was collected in the north of Ireland and printed in Sam Henry’s Songs of the People.

20 Nov

Sweet Mary Jane

My true love’s name was Mary Jane,
Her epitaph reveals the same,
Her grace and charm I will proclaim,
Through all my days moreover,
Where could you find a fairer dame,
And search this wide world over.

“My love and I we did agree,
That when I would return from sea,
We’d go straightway and married be,
And live a life of leisure,
No more to face the stormy sea,
In quest of gold and treasure.

“But I had not gone across the main,
When cruel death had my companion slain,
The pride and beauty of the plain,
In her cold grave lay moldering,
And our fond plan was all in vain,
Amid the ruins smoldering.

“I am distressed what shall I do,
I’ll roam this wide world through and through,
I’ll sigh and sing for sake of you,
My days I’ll spend in mourning,
And in my dreams I’ll wander through,
The lane that knows no turning.

A sad and beautiful song this month that was collected from several singers in eastern Canada and that was also in the repertoire of Minnesota singer Michael Dean. In most Canadian versions, the lost lover’s name is “Phoebe” (or “Bright Phoebe”). In Maine, singer Carrie Grover learned it as “Sweet Caroline” while in Minnesota, Dean sang “Mary Jane” and printed it as “Sweet Mary Jane” in his 1922 songster The Flying Cloud.

The above melody is my best effort to transcribe the richly ornamented version sung by New Brunswick singer Angelo Dornan. We do not know what melody Dean used but most collected melodies, including Dornan’s, show a resemblance to the famous “Greensleeves” melody. Dornan’s striking twists and turns make his air refreshingly unique. For text, I subbed in Dean’s first line and made a couple small changes of my own but otherwise stayed close to Dornan’s version including its unique six-line poetic structure (most other versions have four-line stanzas). Dornan sang two additional verses to what appears here and a transcription of his full version appears in Helen Creighton’s Maritime Folk Songs.

20 Nov

Morzie Ellsworth

My name is Morzie Ellsworth the truth I’ll tell to you,
I’m in the prime of manhood and my age is twenty-two,
On the fourteenth of October last, I boarded on a train,
And bound for Pennsylvania, I left the state of Maine.

I landed safe in Williamsport, a lumberman’s rendezvous,
And there I hired with Jacob Brown as one of the winter’s crew,
We agreed upon the wages, as you shall plainly see,
And the time of term it was six months to serve him faithfully.

He gave to me a sheathing belt, likewise a bowie knife,
A battle axe and carbine gun for to defend my life,
But woe be on the morning when I did undertake,
A voyage to the forest for gold and riches sake.

There’s the tomtit and the moose-bird and the roving caribou,
The lucifee and partridge that through the forests flew,
And the wild ferocious rabbit from the colder regions came,
And several other animals too numerous to name.

And when the snow began to melt the foreman he did say,
“Lay down your saws and axes boys, and haste to break away,
For the broken ice is floating now in business we will thrive,
And you able-bodied shanty-boys are needed on the drive.”

It would melt your heart with pity, it would make your blood run cold,
To see the work that Nature did in all her rudest mould,
And to see those overhanging rocks along the ice-bound shore,
Where rippling waters fierce do rage and cataracts do roar.

So to conclude and finish, I have one thing more to say,
When I am dead and in my grave, a-mould’ring in the clay,
No artificial German text you can for me sustain,
Just simply say, “Here’s a roving wreck that came from Bangor, Maine.”

Ninety-five years ago, in the summer of 1923, Franz Rickaby collected a version of the above song in Bayport, Minnesota (south of Stillwater) from former lumberjack Hank Underwood who called it “The Maine-ite in Pennsylvania.” Underwood’s four verse version (verses 2, 4, 6 and 7 above) likely descended from the New Brunswick song “Morris Ellsworth” which satirizes a greenhorn logger from Prince Edward Island who comes to the Miramichi woods to log. The St. Croix Valley where Underwood was born, had a high concentration of immigrant loggers from the Miramichi region – including Underwood’s parents.

Jokes and stories making fun of inexperienced men in the logging camp – especially their fear of animals – were common in the woods. According to folklorist Edward Ives, PEI men were looked down upon in Miramichi. Interestingly, Rickaby reported that “State of Maine” men were often foremen or bosses in Minnesota. Underwood likely learned his version while logging in Pennsylvania where, perhaps, Maine-ites had a different reputation. For a biography of Hank Underwood see the liner notes to my CD Minnesota Lumberjack Songs which also includes an arrangement of this song.

For the version above, I use a melody very close to Underwood’s melody and extend his text with extra verses added in from one of the Miramichi versions and one verse pulled from “Jim Porter’s Shanty Song” also collected by Rickaby.